


Eternity

by Good_Ol_Jinx_Mgee



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 05:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19968886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good_Ol_Jinx_Mgee/pseuds/Good_Ol_Jinx_Mgee
Summary: It is the end of the world, and all they have is each other. But it will take an eternity for them to realize that.Couple of things: I haven't played New Dawn so any canon-divergence in reference to that time period is unintentional. Also, this is pure self-indulgence and closure for me after playing the game.TW: self-harm, implied sexual abuse. You've been warned.





	1. Chapter 1

"In the face of God, I am making you the same offer...one last time."  
Joseph Seed stands before her, his arms outstretched like the messiah he is, and he is welcoming her. And she wants to accept. She feels the weight of the words on her shoulders, the lives of her friends that have been lost ...and the lives of Joseph's family that she took too readily with the same gun she points at him now. She is filled with a fatigue that can't be named. She is filled with a sorrow she has never felt. But most strongly, she is wracked with guilt that she never could have expected. And with these, she wants to walk away.   
But she knows she can't. She knows, for Eli, for all the ones she's lost, that she can't give in. Not now. Even for John, Faith, and Jacob, she cannot stop. Even their deaths cannot be in vain.  
"I'm sorry," she says, meaning it as a tear breaks from her eye. Her hold on the gun wavers. "I can't."  
Slowly, he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of genuine disappointment, and a lump forms in her throat. If you had told her three weeks ago that she'd be crying for Joseph Seed, she would have laughed at you. But no one was laughing now.  
"Every slight...every injustice… and every choice reveals our SIN." He looks to the ground in his frustration, but then looks back up at her with a fury she didn't think he was capable of. "John was wrong." He presses a finger to her chest. "Your sin is not wrath. You'd rather watch the world suffer and burn than swallow your pride."  
He steps away and raises his arms. "And the lamb broke the sixth seal and lo, there was a great earthquake, and the sun became black!"  
Suddenly, he moves for a barrel of bliss by the door to the church, and she pulls the trigger before she can think about it, and he's down. She isn't sure where she hit him. She wasn't aiming.  
There is silence. She's worried she killed him- but then he crawls out from behind the barrel.  
"Forgive them, Father. They know not what they do," he rasps. He gets on his knees and turns to her. "When the lamb broke the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven." He offers up his arms. "And the seven angels before God were given seven trumpets."  
Her attention is pulled from him when birds fly from a nearby tree.  
"And there were noises- thunderings, lightnings. And an earthquake."  
Sheriff Whitehorse picks him up and handcuffs him. "Joseph Seed, you're under arrest."  
She looks to a far mountain when a siren sounds. And then she looks back to him, before any of it happens, and she has a brief, fleeting moment of understanding.  
"And I heard a great voice from the temple say to the angels: go your ways, and pour your vials, the wrath of God upon the Earth."  
And then the world ends.


	2. Chapter 2

The day after the apocalypse, he tries to read her scripture, but she doesn't hear him. When he realizes this, he stops, closes the Bible, and leans toward her. She is still handcuffed to the bed, so she can only lean away from him into the wall.  
"You can resist the word of God, but you will break. We have eternity together."  
"I know," she whispers, barely audible. "I just don't see how it matters."  
"Because we will emerge from this place and into a purified world. And you will be the only family I have. I need you to understand this," he lifts the book. "Before that happens."  
She sits up. "The world is gone, Joseph. It ended." She isn't sure why she said it, because she knows it fell on deft ears.  
"It couldn't have. We're still here."  
And she knows he's right. But she can't feel it.

It is the fifth day, and when he puts down the plate of microwaved military food, she once again refuses it.  
"Starving yourself will not elicit pity from me," he says, but she is silent. She isn't doing it for him. At least, she doesn't think she is. She isn't hungry. She doesn't think she deserves to eat. His words ring true in her ears no matter what else is said.  
This is her fault.  
In those same five days, she hasn't said a word. But finally, while she is drifting in and out of consciousness, she begins to sing quietly to herself. She sings "We Will Rise Again", though it's still a knee jerk reaction to hate the Hope County Choir music, she admits to herself that she always had a soft spot for it.  
"Faith wrote that song."  
She looks up weakly and sees him staring at her from his chair. But his eyes, for the first time, she can read clearly. And he's sad.  
She quiets and lays her head against the wall.  
"It didn't hit me until Faith."  
"What didn't?"  
"The guilt." She thinks about how she killed John first, not for any particular reason, but perhaps because she was most afraid of him. Then she killed Faith, and that was the hardest. "Because I realized it wasn't her fault. And then I realized- it wasn't any of them. It was always you. You were the cancer. You were the rotting head."  
She's staring past him as she says it, and he stands and approaches her, but she doesn't look at him and she doesn't feel fear.  
"But even you were right. So who's to blame? Is it me? Does it matter?" He stops. She finally looks at him and feels her core begin to crumble. "In the end... everything I hated you for... everything I killed for...doesn't matter."  
She lets herself drift away, not caring what he does next or whether or not she wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a doozy.  
> As always, thanks for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes when she hears his voice.  
"Rook, I'm going to uncuff you and clean you off. Don't fight me."  
She regains full consciousness as he lifts her and carries her to the bathroom. But when she hears the water running, she is reminded of John, of how he held her under the water, or how he always got closer than Joseph or Jacob, and she squirms pathetically in Joseph's arms. But he isn't expecting it, so he drops her, clumsily. She hits the concrete floor and the wind is knocked from her, but she crawls anyway, not knowing or caring about where she's going. She feels him over her and lift her by the shoulders, and she fights him. Why, she doesn't know. She feels futile and restless and she's pleading for him to fight with her because that's all she knows. So when he grabs her arms and turns her to face him and she wrenches free, she sends a hand to his face. What she expected was to hit him. What she did not expect was to come away with his skin under her nails, or to see three distinct lines on his cheek, now bleeding.   
She stares at him, her mouth agape. And an apology almost slips past her tongue when he grabs her by the throat with one hand and gathers her hair in the other. He drags her to the bathroom as she screams in protest. She doesn't know where this strength or energy came from, but she's regretting it as he throws her against the wall of the shower. She gasps as the freezing water soaks through her flanel.   
"Let the water wash away your sins, Deputy. Let it all out."  
The way he is looking at her, and his stance, they both make him look ready for a fight. Is this what he wanted? To get her riled up? Because she would show him.   
She screamed and lunged at him, but he pushed her back against the tiled wall. He is closer now, but is still keeping his distance.  
"You think I'm proud?" She screams over the water. "What do I have left to be proud of?"  
"Your wrath is still driven by your pride! You won't eat, you won't listen to me. How else can I get through to you but to break you down?"  
She stares at him in disbelief. "It doesn't matter! Nothing fucking matters anymore!"  
And she goes at him again. This time, he pins her against the wall with his forearm to her throat and a leg between hers. His bun is made loose by the water and his hair begins to hang around his face. Without that or his glasses, Rook can begin to see who this man truly is: a desperate psychopath who guessed the apocalypse.  
And she pushes down the pity she had felt for him before the church and brings a fist towards his face, but he gets both her wrists in his hands and pins them to the wall. She tries to headbut him, but he leans away. He is quicker and when she begins to doubt her strength, she remembers that she hasn't eaten in nearly a week.  
"What do you want, Rook?" He asks through his teeth. "You cried for me at the church. You wanted to give in to me but you didn't. Well what now?" He shakes her. "Where is your guilt? Where is your regret?"  
She screams in response if only to have the final word, or be the loudest. But he doesn't say anything. And soon the only sound between them is their labored breathing and the show that still runs cold.  
Finally, he lets out a ragged sound and places his forehead on her shoulder. She tenses at the contact. His hands move from her wrists and between her fingers. And it isn't until his body shakes that she realizes he's crying.  
"I'm going insane," he says quietly. "I can't hardly live with you, but I know I can't live without you." His hands move to her throat suddenly and press down. "I could kill you. A part of me wants to so badly that I can't take it."  
He's putting too much pressure on her windpipe and her hands claw at his arms. Despite herself, she barely whispers his name and he finally releases. She doubles over and coughs while he steps out of the stall.  
"You took everything from me. And you have the nerve to cry for it. I am wavering under the weight of your depression, Deputy."  
She looks at him through her dripping hair and spits out water.  
"You lost them. You lost your siblings. And I know that hurts, but I'm the one that killed them. For a cause that I thought was right." She straightens. "We're both murderers. But you're used to it. I'm not. And you have this!" She gestures wildly to the bunker encasing them. "You were right! You were right and I don't have that. I don't have satisfaction. I don't have your godliness. I don't have anything and it's my own fault." She lets out a shaky breath and pushed her hair away from her face, the tears a stark contrast to the cold. "And I would rather die than have to live the rest of my life looking at you and being reminded of that."  
And then he looks at her in a way that resembles awe and she hates him for it.  
"I pity you," he says, then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Rook lets out a sob and sinks to the floor. She considers drowning, and opens her mouth, but she is reminded of John and stumbles out of the shower, onto the cold concrete floor. What would Jacob say if he could see her now? Or if he'd seen her pathetic attempt at a fight? He'd despise her. His song rings in her ears and she thinks that she needs to be freed from this prison. So she stands, and that's when she spots it.  
She stares at the straight razor on the sink. She can't believe he left it in here with her. She thinks about how easy it would be to free herself. Then she remembers how Joseph isn't stupid, and he never would have accidentally left that razor, that perhaps it was a test of her strength. Of course, that was Jacob's game, and not his.  
But as she stares at it's silver surface, she catches her reflection in the blade. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter. Nothing did, anymore. John's words taunt her, Jacob's cold stare and his fingers work the lid of the music box and she's pulled away. She killed Eli. She killed Faith. She killed Faith as the poor girl was begging for her life, crying like a broken record that it wasn't her fault. And Rook shot her. Just as she had shot John. Just as she had shot Jacob. Just as she had shot Eli.  
She carries the razor to the shower and makes quick work of it, slumping against the tile and crying from the pain as the water beats against her wounds, and she waits for release.

Eventually he comes in and sees her in the stall. And though she is slipping she sees the panic on his face as he runs to her and kneels in her blood. He presses his hands to her wrists and opens his mouth to say something. Perhaps he does. She does not hear him. All she can hear in the shower washing her away. He wraps his arms around her and carries her out of the bathroom, but by the time he lays her on the bed, she is gone.

When she wakes, she's in a field of bliss. Faith is at the far end, out of reach but within sight. And when Rook sees her, she thinks she's in hell.  
"I'm sorry," she says, the words becoming too familiar.  
"I know," Faith says, and smiles.  
"I'm ready to die," Rook says, and her knees sink to the ground. When she looks up again, Faith is before her with a hand on her shoulder.  
"I know," she repeats. "But it is not your time."  
"Please," Rook says as she begins to cry. A wind moves through her chest. She is tired.  
"There are amends to be made. There is a future still. There is hope still. But if you leave him, there won't be." Faith pressed her forehead to Rook's. The deputy closes her eyes. "He needs you." Rook opens her eyes and Faith is far again, her arms open. The field begins to fade, bliss swaying in the breeze. "And you need him."

When Rook wakes, it isn't with a start. Her eyes barely open. Her body aches from the blood she lost. Her wrists and wrapped in thick bandages. There are tourniquets on her arms. To the side of the bed is an IV stand, covered in blood, and empty. And then she sees Joseph.   
He looks as pale as her and twice as tired. He is in his chair, but right against the bed. His rosary hangs in his hands, which hang loosely clasped on his legs. His head is tilted back, and for a second, Rook thinks he's dead. But she can tell by the steady, low rise and fall of his chest that he is simply sleeping. Then she sees the blood on his arm and the needle-point hole by the crook of his elbow, and she realizes that he did a blood transfusion, right here. Rook didn't even know they were compatible. He probably didn't either.  
Her waking stirs him, and his head lifts and he sees her eyes staring at him, her body still, and he sighs. His face doesn't change as he leans forward and uses a hand to brush her hair from her face. And then he presses his forehead to hers just as Faith had in the dream, and he whispers,   
"I knew God wouldn't take you from me."  
And she is scared of the truth in that, but mostly, she feels warm, and oddly safe, and a tear rolls down her cheek.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jacob and John make an appearance and Rook gets in her feelings.

The next few days pass without incident. She doesn't speak, because what can she say? When he reads to her, he does it softly, like he's afraid the noise will break her. And he constantly checks on her with his eyes, but she's never looking at him. She's staring blankly at the ceiling.  
Finally, she takes food. The temptation to simply starve herself out was strong, but Faith's haunting words were stronger.  
Amends? From her? Or from Joseph?  
But he already speaks apologies in the gentle ways he helps her, the way he lifts a spoonful of food to her lips, or the way he asks to check her wounds. She lets him without protest. She hisses as he unwraps the final layer of gauze.  
"Sorry," he says.  
"It's fine." She turns to face the ceiling so she doesn't have to look. If he thinks anything of this he doesn't say it, and for that tiny act she is grateful. She feels him run a thumb over the stitches he made.  
"They're healing up nicely."  
As soon as he's finished replacing her bandages, she turns away from him, facing the wall.  
He was right, but he had hurt her. But when she was dying, she didn't have to think about that. Now it's all that filled her mind. He had tortured her, Jacob and John had tortured her in his name. And they had done the same to hundreds of others.  
So maybe there were amends to be made. But as much guilt as she felt, she could hold out a while longer.  
After all, he said her sin was pride.

When she dreams, she sees Jacob.  
“You couldn’t cull the herd,” he says. He’s sitting on a rock, sharpening a bowie knife. Rook is standing nearby, a rifle in her hands.  
“What was I supposed to do? Let him walk away? Isn’t that the opposite of what you taught me?”  
“Not like you retained any lessons before,” he says absentmindedly. “Suicide is a coward’s game, Rook.”  
“Great. You’re gonna lecture me beyond the grave?”  
“It’s all I got.”  
Rook instinctively lifts her rifle when a deer steps on a nearby branch.  
“Do it,” Jacob instructs. Rook lowers the gun.  
“Why? Doesn’t matter,” she says.  
“It will,” he says, and when she turns to him, the knife is the music box. He winds up the key and the lid opens. “Only you…”  
And then the shift begins, but instead of losing consciousness, she regains it. And Joseph is standing at a nearby workbench, singing the song softly to himself. Rook sits up, surprised to find herself uncuffed. But then she remembers her wrists, and it makes sense. He looks over his shoulder at her, but doesn’t say a word. His hair is up again, his glasses are on. She both recognizes him and doesn’t. She’s seen the human part of him, now.  
Rook makes work of tying her hair in a ponytail while he faces her, and extends a fist, and from it dangles a rosary, but it isn’t his. It’s newer, with a cross fashioned from wire and random beads forming the strand. Rook looks at it, then up at Joseph.  
“What’s that?”  
She knows what it is. The question is more why.  
“It’s for you. Something to help you along.”  
She takes it and cradles it in her hand. “You think a rosary is going to help me?”  
“I think it will make your acceptance easier.”  
Rook nods, her fingers closing around the beads. “So it’s still that, isn’t it?” There is silence. “Well, I don’t want it.”  
She considers throwing it back to him, but she instead places it on the bed beside her. Joseph, keeping his composure, leans down to her.  
“You said yourself I was right.”  
“You were right about the apocalypse. Why or how I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care. But I know it wasn’t God. Unless he has nuclear silos, too.”  
The way he looks at her almost brings her comfort because it’s familiar. It’s the way he judged her when she spat out insults and snarky remarks when she was with John. That cavalier angst had faded by the time she got to Jacob, but here, it’s almost like the world hadn’t ended at all, and they were back in the church.  
“Resistance will only make this harder.”  
“What? Your sermons? I’m used to them.”  
He shakes his head. “No. Your atonement.”  
She scoffs and actually smiles. “My atonement? For what? Killing your family or ending the world? Because as of right now, we’re the only two survivors, so both those would only be for you. So what purpose would it serve?”  
He moves closer until he is inches from her face. On instinct, her eyes dart to his lips, because she’d rather look anywhere than his blue eyes, tinted by the glasses. That look had always made her uncomfortable. It was as though he could see into her soul.  
“I don’t need to convince you of anything,” he says, taking a hand and holding the side of her face. She moves away, but a second hand moves to the other cheek, and soon he is holding her still. He kneels to be eye-level with her. “This is the truth. This is the word of God and you will accept it, whether you like it or not.”  
For a brief moment, she considers spitting in his face purely to spite him, but thinks better of it.  
“I won’t do that for you,” she says, and the words are true and laced with venom. His eyes darken and his jaw tics, tightens.  
“Not even for your own soul?”  
“I’m already in hell,” she says. These words hit him hard, she can tell, because he releases her quickly and steps away.  
“So you admit fault and yet you refuse to make amends?”  
Something in her wills her to stand. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me? What led me to do the things I did? You kidnapped, brainwashed, and killed hundreds of people. And the ones who wouldn’t bow to your prophecies?”  
“You?” he cuts in.  
“Yes, me. You tortured me. John-” she catches a lump in her throat as the familiar fear creeps in from her stomach. “Not that you care what John did. Because he was the baby, right? Not to mention how many people Faith enslaved. Or the atrocities Jacob made me commit. I killed my friend because of him!”  
“Because you were weak-”  
“Fine! I’m weak! Is that what you wanted to hear, Joseph? You wanted to break me down and then call me weak? To invade my body and my mind? To take my autonomy? That is a sin, Joseph. You’re as guilty as the ones you accuse. You’re guiltier than me,” she says finally, taking her own breath away. He is silent. “And none of it fucking matters.”  
It hangs in the air, as thick and heavy as everything else they’ve said to each other. Joseph is staring at her.  
“What did you mean?”  
“What?”  
“When you said John. What did you mean?”  
She scoffs and turns away, trying to hide her tears from him. “You know goddamn well what his sin was. You figure it out.”  
Her skin bristles as the atmosphere in the room shifts. She hates herself for crying but she hates him more. And when he approaches her, she moves away.  
“Deputy,” he begins, and extends a hand to her shoulder, and she swats it away as hard as she can muster.  
“Don’t- fucking touch me,” she says. “Because I know that as bad as John was, you’re the one who made him that way.”  
And for once, she gets the last word, and she’s the one who storms out the room. But when she leaves, she doesn’t entirely remember where to go, so she goes for the closest room and closes the door behind her.  
She flips the light on and realizes that she’s found Joseph’s makeshift bedroom. There is a bed in the corner and a workbench turned desk to the side. On it is a hand-bound book. When she turns it over, she recognizes the symbol on the cover, and realizes that this is an unfinished manifesto. She knew it, because she’d burned so many of them. And this was probably the only surviving copy.  
She doesn’t know what to do with herself, now. She can’t go back out there, because of her damn pride, but there is hardly anything in this room. She considers sleeping, but she doesn’t want to lay her head where his has been. She wants to wash herself clean of him. She doesn’t want to be anywhere or anything he is. But then she remembers that that’s all this place is. And he’s all she has left.  
“What is your greatest fear, Deputy?”  
John was standing before her as she was tied to the chair in his bunker.  
“Living in the same world as you,” she spat. He laughed and picked up a knife.  
“You really think that’s the worst thing? Oh, darling. You have no idea. I’m going to teach you how to say yes, and then we’ll see what it is you fear.”  
Rook grabs the sides of her head and lets out a sob. Truth was, he had only touched on one of her fears. Her other great fear? Being alone.  
She isn’t sure she can even die anymore, no matter how hard she tries. She should have died a million times over during her time in Hope County, but she never did. She should have died with her partners outside this bunker, but she didn’t. She should have died when she wanted to, but even then, the Seeds would not let her go.  
So what are her choices? To live the rest of her life begging for death? Or, God forbid, she learn to get by with what she has? With him?  
The look on his face when she told him what John had done haunted her. Fine, maybe he really never knew what his little brother was capable of. Did that exempt him from guilt? Especially when he was always accusing her?  
Again, the rationale hits her. The world is gone. There is nothing over her head but scorched Earth, so what does guilt and amends matter?  
Because he keeps pressing it. She could let it go. She could at least try, but he would never let her. And that brings her back to her two options.  
But she doesn’t have to decide now. She can sit here and waste her time for as long as she wanted to. Slowly, she grabs the book from Joseph’s desk. Whether out of boredom or the need to fill her mind with anything other than these questions, it doesn’t matter. She realizes that in all her time here, she’s never actually read one of these.  
If she was going to be making her decision soon, she figures it might as well be an informed one, so she begins to read.


	5. Chapter 5

She isn’t sure how much time has passed when she hears a knock at the door. When she doesn’t respond. It opens, and Joseph walks in. He’s taken his glasses off and, to Rook’s genuine surprise, he’s put on a shirt. And he is surprised to find her sitting in his bed, reading his book. She’s actually gotten almost all the way through what he’s written. Awkwardly, he stands in the doorway.  
“What do you think of it?” He asks.  
“Your handwriting is terrible,” she dead-pans. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve read this before, somewhere.”  
“I’d always assumed you’d never read the bible,” he says and walks in, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
“I grew up in a small town in Montana. I went to church. I did the whole “Christianity” thing.”  
“And it didn’t take?”  
“Let’s just say my animosity for the Lord’s word doesn’t stem only from you.”  
It is harsher than she means it to be and he almost visibly winces, but fuck her if she’s going to apologize for it.  
“I wanted to talk to you,” he says, now very serious. Rook sets the book in her lap.  
“We are talking-”  
“I’m sorry.”  
She stops. What is he sorry for? The fight earlier? She furrows her brow at him.  
“Sorry? For what?”  
He looks at her like she’s stupid, then remembers himself. He crosses his legs and faces her, scooting closer on the bed. He takes her hands and she lets him, even though it sends a chill down her spine. For once, she is able to focus on the sensation. His fingers are both calloused and soft as they study hers.   
“So much pain and suffering these hands have inflicted,” he says, pressing his thumbs into her palms. “But not without reason. And not without someone else’s guilt.”  
He looks at her face, but she can’t look at his.  
“Look at me, Deputy.”  
Finally she does.  
“I am sorry.”  
And she is frozen. Her instinct is to pull her hands away from him, but she doesn’t. And now she can’t look away.  
“I am sorry for what has happened between us. I’m sorry for pushing you to do the things you did. And I am sorry for what John did to you.”  
And then, like a spell being broken, she pulls away, the contact now sickening her. But he doesn’t stop.  
“You were right, as I was right. Everything you’ve done has been because of me. And I suppose that’s just how it was always meant to be.” His chest falls. “Be it fate or God or random chance, what has occured, from the beginning, is on both our hands. And I’m sorry for that.”  
He lifts a finger under her chin, gently, to turn her head to him. “We both did what we thought was right, and there is no sin in that. And I know it will take time and we’ll both have to try, but I’m sorry. And I want you to know that.”  
She closes her eyes. She thinks of the guilt she felt before the world ended. She thinks of Faith and the dream she had. This was it. So, taking in a breath, and letting it out, she opens her eyes.  
“I’m sorry,” she says. He lets out a shaky breath, as though those two words lifted some great weight from him. She begins to cry. “I’m so sorry.”  
“My child,” he says, and he takes her in his arms, cradling her head. She balls his shirt into her fists and cries against his chest.  
It wouldn’t hit her until later that this was the moment when she made her choice. He had told her the thing she didn’t know she needed to hear, and though it didn’t make up for what had been done, it did cement a new foundation for an eternity they could share, without the guilt, and without the blame.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets fucked. And then a bit un-fucked. As always, thanks for reading!

Life was different now.  
Of course Joseph still tries to convince her of God, and she humors him. She reads his book as he writes it and she keeps the rosary he made her above her bed. But he listens when she tells him about her whole life, about why she can't believe in God, and he nods, not in disapprovement or judgement, but in understanding.   
They don't just survive together, but they begin to live.  
Joseph takes care of cleaning the place and cooking, because Rook tried to make them dinner and burned it. But that was fine, because Rook was able to repair a broken pipe after Joseph came to her, helpless.  
And, for a little bit, she forgets about all the bad.  
Of course, nothing good lasts.  
She's sitting in the room with the fish tank and the radio, organizing supplies, when she hears a crackling over the radio. She turns, confused, and fiddles with the knobs until a voice becomes clear.  
"Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me? This is Wheaty with the Whitetail Militia."  
Rook freezes. She thinks for sure she's dreaming, but she pressed down on the speaker.  
"H-hello?"  
"Rook? Jesus, is that you?"  
"Wheaty? You're alive?"  
They share a brief moment of joyous laughter. Rook can't believe it.  
"Where are you?"  
"We made it back to a bunker. What about you?"  
"I'm in Dutch's bunker-"  
She almost says that she's with Joseph, and she remembers that Wheaty was there, and he knew that he was in the car with her.  
"Are there any survivors with you?"  
"What are you doing?"  
A new voice cuts the air and Rook drops the speaker when Joseph steps into the room. He brushes past her and presses the button.   
"Who's there?" He asks, but received no answer but static, and she knows Wheaty is gone. Joseph turns to her.  
"Who was that?"  
For a moment, she considers lying to him, on instinct. But she knows it's too dangerous to leave, so even if Joseph wanted to, he couldn't.  
"Deputy," he warns, and she stiffens. She hates being spoken to like a child and he knows that.  
"Nobody," she says, walking past him, but he catches her arm and she looks up at him, deadly. "Joseph," she warns back.  
"Are there survivors?" He asks, now softer, letting her go.  
"Wheaty. I don't know anything else."  
He sighs, and then he smiles.  
"See? We're not alone after all."

Though it is no secret, Rook makes her trips to the radio discreet. If Joseph knows, he gives her privacy. He reacted so much better than she'd expected. He wasn't angry. He didn't curse them. And he didn't take any strides to disrupt their communication.  
Rook picks a quiet day and shuts herself in the room, tuning in until she finds a clear frequency.  
"Hello? Wheaty? Are you there?"  
At first, there is silence. Then,  
"Deputy. Was that Joseph fucking Seed?"  
Rook grips the speaker tighter. "Yes."  
"Did he take you hostage? Are you safe?"  
Rook thinks about her answer, carefully.  
"He saved my life," she says quietly.  
"Deputy, he's a crazy person. You remember that, right?"  
Rook is silent. "Are there any other survivors?"  
Wheaty sighs. "A few. I don't know anything outside of this bunker. It's still too dangerous to go outside."  
Rook nods, even though there's no one to see it.  
"Why haven't you killed that son of a bitch?"  
Rook sighs. "Because I'm tired of killing people."  
His disbelief is deafening to her ears. "You can't be serious. After all he's done? After Eli?"  
"Killing him won't bring them back."  
"He murdered his baby, remember? He is the lowest scum left on this planet and you want to keep him around?"  
Rook's stomach drops as she remembers that. She had told Wheaty and others everything Joseph had told her that day he came to visit her cage.  
Rook suddenly feels very sick and cold. She remembers just what injustices Joseph had committed for his cause. But she also remembers her own.  
"I can't," she whispers into the speaker. "I don't expect you to understand."  
"Good, because I don't," Wheaty says, then curses in a different language before the line goes dead. Rook feels numb as she replaces the speaker.  
She tries to justify it in her head. 'It's no different from all the others he's killed,' and 'So many people are dead now, anyway' but none of it works. She's cold as she leaves the room and goes towards the bathroom. Joseph is sitting at the kitchen table, reading.  
"Deputy?" He asks, but she doesn't answer. She goes into the shower and turns it on as hot as it will go and stands under the water. She closes her eyes, but still knows Joseph has followed her. He tries to lay a hand on her shoulder but she moves away- a sign they now both know to mean that he shouldn't touch her.  
"If you could take it back, would you?" She asks.  
He is quiet. "Which part?"  
"All of it."  
"No, not all of it."  
"Your daughter, then," she says, finally looking at him. He catches his breath at the suddenness of it, but she doesn't care. She needs to know.  
"I always wish there had been another way."  
"But do you regret it?"  
"She would have died anyway-"  
"Goddammit, Joseph! Just tell me that you feel sorry so I don't have to!"  
The hurt in his eyes is nearly unbearable.  
"And will that bring her back? Yes, I wish it were different. Yes, I wish there had been another way. But if you're asking me if I'm sorry I spared her this suffering? No, I'm not."  
Rook faces the water again.  
"Use your logic, Rook. Use your reasoning. This was always going to happen. And I couldn't watch it happen to her."  
She understands his logic. She understands it. But she hates it.   
"You said it yourself. It doesn't matter now."  
She takes a deep breath, then nods.  
"Alright."  
After a moment, he reaches into the shower and shuts off the water. He grabs a towel and wraps it around her shoulders. And as he walks her back to her bed, she thinks about how fucked this is. But she also cannot deny how comfortable she now feels in his arms. And he cooks dinner and she watches him from the bed as he sings to himself, and she feels peaceful. And she doesn't feel guilty for it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and heavy-handed irony and stuff.  
> We find out Rook's name. Joseph Seed can't dance. Queue HSM2.

The next days are awkward, if not normal and uneventful. Joseph is quieter than normal. Rook is as quiet as she always is.  
She goes into the radio room a couple times and tries tuning in, but no one is ever there to receive her. She knows Wheaty is either ignoring her or something has happened to him. She isn’t sure which is worse.  
She continues her work of organizing Dutch’s things. Seeing his name on things and pictures of him and Jess send Rook’s stomach into knots. But instead of hiding them, she puts them on display, as a tribute, if nothing else. She sets a stack of hunting magazines next to the bed. She cleans off a shelf and hangs it in Joseph’s room so his things, regardless of quantity, can be neat and not thrown everywhere.   
As she is clearing some pallets when she comes across a box and a crate of records, and she sighs. Wheaty had assigned her the task of finding him however many record crates across the county for his radio station, and she’d gotten all but one. It had never occurred to her that it was here, in Dutch’s bunker. She pulls the record player from the box, carefully, and wipes the dust from it. It is old, but probably still in working condition. She fingers through the crate and stops when she sees a familiar, psychedelic cover. She laughs as she places the record on the player and sets the needle down.  
/It's the time of the season  
When love runs high  
And this time, give it to me easy  
And let me try with pleasured hands  
To take you in the sun to (promised lands)  
To show you every one   
It's the time of the season for loving/  
She laughs to herself and thinks that, when they finally leave, if there’s zombies up there, she’ll just blow the world up again.  
She doesn’t realize she’s dancing, slow and swaying, until she feels someone else in the room and jumps.  
“It’s okay,” Joseph says softly. “I just wanted to see what you were doing.”  
She’s suddenly very uncomfortable that he saw her making a fool of herself and she crosses her arms.  
“I found Dutch’s record player.”  
“You were dancing,” he says, and a slow smile creeps onto his face. And while that would usually, well, creep her out, it makes her blush and she smiles in spite of herself.  
“Yeah, I know, I’m no good at it.”  
“I didn’t say that,” he says, and extends a hand. Rook stares at him, pleading that he’s joking. When he doesn’t say anything, she voices this.  
“You’re joking, right?”  
“The longer you wait, the worse it gets,” he says.  
Rook bites her lips and feels something strange in her stomach. It resembles anxiety, something she knows well, and the other half is something like how she felt at her eighth grade formal, and that makes her feel sick.  
But she takes his hand, and he draws her in and wraps an arm around his waist, and she cannot believe that he’s trying to slow dance to The Zombies. She grips the fabric of his button down and clears her throat, uncomfortable. He leans his head down to hers.  
“Relax, Deputy,” he whispers.  
She lets out a breath and tries to move with him. But his hand tightens above her hip, not in any way malicious, but the sensation travels up her spine and she breaks away, practically pushing herself off of him.  
“Stop,” she says before she can control it. He puts his hands up, but she can’t look at him. She closes her eyes in shame and frustration. And then she hates herself for feeling that way.  
There is silence for a moment, as though he’s at a loss for words.  
“Deputy, you can’t keep living your life like this.”  
She counts to ten and exhales. “I know.”  
He steps closer; she can feel it. “Maybe if you would consider it, you could find some solace in God’s word.”  
She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t want it from him.”  
He doesn’t touch her and for that she is grateful. “Then what can I do?”  
She finally opens her eyes and is surprised to find him so close, and despite what just happens, she feels a familiar sensation when she smells him, and it confuses her. She shakes that away as soon as it had come.  
“Be patient with me,” she says. “And please stop trying to sell me on the Bible.”  
“Patience I can do very well. But I can’t change my purpose.”  
“I know,” she nods. “I think I just need to be alone for a little while.”  
“Okay, Deputy,” he says, and as he walks away, she calls after him.  
“Joseph? You can stop calling me Deputy. I’m not sure it even applies anymore.”  
“Well, what’s your name?”  
She cocks her head at him. “You don’t know?”  
He shrugs. “It never came up.”  
“You’ll laugh at me,” she says. He shakes his head.  
“I won’t.”  
She knows he will, but she says it anyway. “Hope.”  
And he laughs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff n stuff. Sorry it took me so long. It's because I'm a dumbass.
> 
> But for real. Thanks for sticking with it. Love y'all ♥️

When she dreams, she sees John. But he looks different. He's more worn. He doesn't have his cool, playful glimmer in his eyes. He seems angry and tired.  
And Rook isn't tied down to a chair. She's standing.  
"Still haven't done it yet, have you?" He asks.   
"Done what?"  
"Said yes."  
"I don't have to," she says. "Joseph and I can live without that."  
John cocks his head to the side. "How adorable. You think you're safe with him."  
"I am."  
"Not forever."  
"He hates you, you know. He knows what you did."  
"He always knew. Maybe he never thought about it, but deep down, he knew. There's a reason he never stopped me."  
"He hates you," she repeats.  
"He never could. He's just desperate enough to tell you what you want to hear. He thinks he needs you."  
"We need each other."  
"Is that what you think? Read his book again."  
And then she wakes up with a start. The room around her is dark. Joseph is nowhere in sight, but she presumes he is asleep in his room. She wants to go back to sleep, but she's honestly afraid of seeing him again. Even if she's not scared of him as much as she used to be, she's annoyed at the mere sight of him. But she doesn't want to move.   
What the hell did he mean about reading the book?  
Rook goes to the sink and gets herself a glass of water. The light from the fish tank hums down the hall. She realizes she's never been awake at this hour, and she finds it peaceful.  
Then, it catches her eye.  
Joseph's book lies open on the kitchen table, almost as if John himself put it there. She walks over to it and lays her hand on a page. But then she thinks of Joseph, and be it for him, or to refuse John's memory the satisfaction, she closes the book.  
And then, as if on cue, she hears a muffled voice from down the hall. And then it grows louder. And louder. And soon, Joseph is all but shouting.  
Rook runs to his room and throws the door open to find him tossing in his bed, having nothing more than a nightmare. She turns the light on and kneels by him, gently grabbing his shoulders and saying his name.  
"John-" he says, and Rook freezes, and then he opens his eyes and gasps, leaning forward. Without turning, he brings a hand to her's on his shoulder and squeezes it.  
"What was it?" She asks, though she thinks she knows.  
"It was only a nightmare," he says low, in the tone to get her to leave him. But she settles beside him instead.  
"Was it John?"  
"It's all of them. But yes, tonight it was John." He shifts under her touch and removes her hand. "You don't have to do that."  
"Sorry," she mutters.  
"No, it's-" he sighs. "Sorry. It's not you."  
"Okay," she says, but she doesn't believe him.  
"I didn't mean to wake you," he says.  
"You didn't." She waits. "Do you want me to go?"  
"No," he answers quickly.  
She nods, staring at the bed below her.   
"I see them, too," she says. He turns to look at her. "Mostly John. But Jacob, too."  
"And Faith?"  
"Only once. After I…" she looks down at her wrists. "Anyway. It's hard, I know."  
He nods, but doesn't say anything. And she hates the silence because she knows she can't leave but she can't think of anything to say. And saying anything else would be to simply fill the space.  
And then she wakes up the next morning at the end of his bed, a blanket draped over her legs. She looks around, and he isn't there.  
She wraps the blanket around herself and walks into the common room. Joseph is at the stove, cooking breakfast.  
"Sorry," she says, sitting down at the table. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."  
"It's fine," he smiles. "It was calming."  
She smiles back at him and grips the coffee cup waiting for her at the table.

Joseph didn't much speak for the rest of the day, or the day following. At first, Rook assumed he was just decompressing from whatever nightmare he'd had. But soon he was all but avoiding her. If they hadn't just survives the end of the world and she were younger, she might have let it bother her without question. Now, she was bothered by it, and aggravated at herself.  
But she keeps out of his way, because he had done the same for her. She cleans up around him and tries not to seem like she is constantly hovering over his shoulder. Once, he leaves his book on the kitchen table and, while he is in the shower, Rook picks it up to take it back to his room. But when she does, slips of paper fall out and onto the floor. When she picks them up, she tries not to read them, but it's hard when it's the same words repeated over and over and over again.  
Thou shalt not covet the lamb.  
Her hands tremble as she slides the paper back into the book hastily, as though doing so will make her forget its words.  
The thought of him toiling over his desk at nights, scribbling those words about her, it makes her uncomfortable, to say the least. She hadn't given her consent to be thought about like that, particularly by someone she had been so helpless to so many times.   
She hears the water shut off and sets the book back down. She goes to the sink and washes her hands, as though it would serve as a good distraction and he wouldn't notice how visibly uncomfortable she is.  
When he steps out of the bathroom, he has a towel wrapped around his waist, and though it's no different from his usual state of dress, she fights a blush. He's tying his hair up as he looks at her.  
"You alright?" He asks. She simply nods and hums, working soap around her fingers.  
He nods and walks back to his room. Rook doesn't breathe until she hears his door shut. She finally turns the sink off and leans against the counter. What is she supposed to do now? Act like she didn't read it?  
Maybe the writing was enough and it he is over it. Or maybe she was just telling herself that to get by.   
Either way, she can't fight the feeling deep inside her when she thinks of his smell, the way his breath felt on her face. Even when they fought in the shower, in any other life, she would have been a little attracted to the situation.   
She realizes that this was never out of the realm of possibility. In fact, she'd always had small flutters of "what if" in very...inconvenient places. Even when she saw him for the first time at the church, she was caught off guard by his attractiveness.  
But now, she doesn't know how to feel. So she tries to ignore it with sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey gang.  
> I'm so so so so sorry this took so long. Don't laugh, but this is my first time writing *looks around to make sure no one's watching* smut, and I didn't want to mess it up.  
> Basically, it's short and made up of whatever I've read others write. That being said, there's some fluff, too.   
> Finally, the slow burn catches fire!

She wakes up in a cold sweat and can't hardly breathe. She feels like she can't do anything, so she goes to the shower. She feels like he's all over her. She feels like he's inside of her.  
But once she gets the hot water on her skin, it doesn't go away. She pumps her hand full of soap and covers herself in it and turns the water to scalding and lets it wash the suds away.  
She lifts her fingers to her hair and runs them through, stretching her neck.   
Then she feels fingers wrap around her throat and she lets herself fall against him, despite her better judgement. And even though the hand tightens, she also feels a different part of him as his chest presses flush against her back.   
She feels his mouth on her neck and his free hand move to her belly, and then down to that sensitive patch of skin. She lifts her hand to run it through his hair, but stops cold when she doesn't feel its length. It's short.  
Before she can turn around to see him, she wakes up, finally. She shoots up in bed, the same as she had in the dream, gripping the sheets. This time, she won't try to go back to sleep, and she won't try to ignore it. Because she can't ignore how she felt when she thought it was Joseph, and she's tired of what the rest of her life will be like if she doesn't confront this now.  
So she stands and goes to the book on the table, flipping through to the slips of paper. Shaking, she reads the second sheet that she hadn't before.  
I feel weak.  
I feel both weak and strong and they're both because of her and for the same reasons.   
I cannot understand her the way I yearn to. And I don't know what that means for my soul.  
This isn't what God had planned for me. But it's what I want.  
I want her.  
But maybe I can still save her, and then, in turn, save myself.

She shuts the book and her legs take her to Joseph's room before she can stop them. She throws the door open and turns on the light. As he stirs, she throws the book on his bed. He rubs his eyes and she stares at him hard. He looks at her, and then at the book.  
"So you still just see me as some dirty thing you can cleanse? You think you have any sort of right to me?"  
He stands and grabs the book. He looks angry but she isn't fazed. "You went through my things?"  
"No. You left it there like you were testing me. Well, congratulations, Joseph Seed. I read your fucking diary. I was too weak."  
He doesn't say anything. But he moves closer.  
"Well? Is that what you think of me? No different than John?"  
He stops, and so does she. She feels guilty immediately, but doesn't back down.  
"Do you want to believe that? Would that make it easier?"  
He is inches from her now, and the anger is gone, but replaced by seriousness.  
"That's what your words make me think."  
She doesn't realize she's moving until her back hits the wall. He's staring down at her.  
"And it couldn't be that I care for you? That it tortures me, but I'm fighting through it? That maybe I don't want to fight it anymore?"  
He's looking at her lips. When she doesn't say anything, he captures her lips in his. Almost immediately, she pushes him away and goes to slap him on instinct. But she catches herself before she does. She thinks about what she wants. And right now, she doesn't want to hit him. She wants to feel him.  
He leans down and the feeling of his breath against her face makes her eyes flutter. Her hand moves to his jaw, her fingers dancing over the bone. But his hands are on her hips, keeping her at a safe distance.  
“Joseph,” she breathes.  
“It isn’t a sin to love, Hope. And it isn’t a sin to be human.”  
She kisses him, her lips grazing against his. His hands work up from her waist to her shoulders, to her neck where he holds her. Her fingers lace through his hair. They undo the knot and his hair falls around his shoulders, and he looks a different person when he breaks away.   
Her hands fall on his shoulders and she traces the birds on his chest with her thumbs. Her fingers fall to the scar above his belt and feels the word. He lets out a soft groan at the touch.  
“It’s okay,” she says. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her again, gentler this time, as she makes work undoing his belt. He breaks away to kick off his pants. She discards her shirt, and at the sight of her breasts, he devours her again, pressing her against the wall. His tongue is welcomed into her mouth and she moans against it. All this time, all the nights she cursed herself for ever thinking of him in this way- none of it mattered now, because here they were, together.   
She feels his hand unbutton her pants and then slide quickly and expertly down the front of her underwear, the sensation causing her to gasp against his lips. His long fingers tease at her folds, and she leans her head back.  
“Do you know how often I thought about you?” he asks, and his other hand finds her breast, his thumb brushing ever so slightly over her nipple. “How much I saw myself in you? How much I wanted have you, against my better judgement?”  
He finally slips his fingers into her and she moans, her hips bucking involuntarily.  
“How much I hated how the other men leered at you? How could I not feel possessive of you, this frightened bird-” the thumb down below finds her clit and she grabs his shoulder. “And then how could I not feel the urge to admire your strength? You pride and your resolve. I hated every second of it all,” he says through gritted teeth, and for a split second, Hope is afraid of him. But then he kisses her again, and his fingers move faster and he’s stimulating her in every way possible, and when she feels she’s so close to the edge, he leaves her. But she knows what comes next.  
She helps him remove his boxers because she wants it before the high can fade.   
"Wait," she says, against her better judgement. "You need to put on a condom."  
She sees the realization flash in his eyes and he leaves her, goes to the desk, opens the drawer, and pulls out the tiny silver package. She smiles at him in disbelief.  
"Joseph Seed," she tuts.  
He looks genuinely offended. "They were Dutch's-"  
"No no no no no," she cups his face. "I was joking."  
He looks at her, then cracks a smile.  
She takes him in her hands and helps him roll the condom on. She gives him a few strokes before he braces her against the wall, slides a leg between hers and hoists her up. She helps him find her entrance, and as he works his way in, he stops, then gets closer, and soon they are pressed flush against each other on the wall. She grasps the back of his neck and whispers in his ear,  
“That’s all nice. But right now, Joseph, I just need you to fuck me.”  
And he obliges. With a grunt, he pulls out, and then slams back into her. It sends bolts through her body and she’s glad for the support he’s giving her. After a few more thrusts, she finds his rhythm and reciprocated with her hips.   
“All this time, I thought the answer was denying myself," he says between thrusts, which are becoming quicker and more erratic. She tries to listen to him, but she is being swept away by this raw pleasure she hadn't felt since her arrival in Hope County. "But it wasn't. Adam and Eve were allowed love. So why aren't we?"  
His fingers find her clit and send her spiraling over the edge.  
"We are,” she pants out, her fingernails scraping against the back of his neck. He pulls away just enough so she can look at his face. His wounds from the final fight up above are healing, and soon he looks like the man who lectured her a hundred times before. But he’s not looking down on her like he did when she was in the cage. They are even. They are equals.   
She brushes her thumbs under his eyes and finally feels a romance- not just sexual desire, but a real aching in her heart. After all they’d endured together, after all the pain they caused each other, here they were.  
And then it creeps up on her slowly and hits her all at once like fireworks, bursting until she sees spots. Joseph finishes too and lays his forehead on her shoulder, trailing kisses across her collar-bone.  
She laughs quietly to herself, and he reciprocates with a chuckle of his own.  
Of all the times she had dreamed about fucking Joseph seed, she never imagined falling in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe y'all have actually stuck with me this far? Like, thank you???   
> I don't really know where to go from here, but I don't think it's ready to end, yet.  
> Just, thank you, at any rate.
> 
> <3


End file.
